


Duct Tape Fixes Everything

by masulevin



Series: who's gonna save us now / when ashes hit the ground [1]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Foot Massage, Getting to Know Each Other, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pre-Relationship, Smoking, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:11:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: Except marriages and broken hearts.Rook asks Sharky what he means.





	Duct Tape Fixes Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Me, rolling into a new fandom eighteen months late with Starbucks: Sharky deserves all the love in the world.

“Who broke your heart, Sharky?”

His mind skitters at the question, the sudden change of subject, searching for words but coming up surprisingly blank. He just stares at her instead, mouth hanging open a bit in his confusion.

She grins at him over the top of her beer, the expression a little lopsided, and tries again. “You said something earlier about how duct tape fixes everything but broken hearts and marriages, so I thought maybe you were talking from experience. You been married before?”

“Uhh.” He blinks one more time at her as she sips her drink before his mind kickstarts again. “You know, sometimes things come out of my mouth before I’ve really had a chance to think about whether I wanna say it or not, and, uh, you know, most people don’t really listen to shit like that.”

“I listen to everything you say,” she says, and he absolutely does not blush when she adds, “that’s part of being best friends, dude. Get with it. Now tell me who broke your heart so I know whose ass to kick.”

He laughs and she beams at him, her teeth flashing in the flickering light from their fire. She settles more comfortably in her folding chair, kicking her bare feet up into his lap; he wraps the fingers of his free hand around one, just out of habit, and digs his thumb into the sole just to hear the little grunt of satisfaction she’ll make.

“You sure you wanna hear that whole story?” He asks, uneasy at bringing up memories of old girlfriends in front of her.

She quirks an eyebrow and wiggles her toes to get him to massage harder. “Shark, you told me about the first time you felt up a girl, accidentally burned down the skating rink in an attempt to cheer yourself up, and then got a boner. At the, uh, fire, not the girl.”

“Oh, yeah, heh, forgot I told you all that. You really do listen to all the stuff I say, huh? You don’t ever just zone out and ignore some of my stories, ‘cause that’s usually how it goes. WIth other people I mean. They don’t listen.” He does massage harder. He even puts his beer down so he can use both hands.

“Come on,” she says, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as he digs his thumbs into the ball of her foot. It might be nice if she did this back from time to time, but he can’t blame her for not wanting to touch his feet. He can acknowledge they get pretty rank by the end of the day, even when they have time to take showers and sleep in real beds, like tonight. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

He focuses on her foot for a second, trying to gather his thoughts before he starts babbling, then he starts babbling anyway: “I mean, I already told you about the girl at the skating rink, and that was my first real disappointment, you know, but then I found out how much I love fire, so that made up for it--” she snickers; he presses on-- “and then, uh, I had a string of good luck until after I dropped out of high school, you know how I am, and then I met this waitress over at the 8-bit, and she was, she was real pretty.” He pauses again, takes another gulp of his beer and then moves to her other foot. “Her name was Shelly. She used to bring me leftover pizzas sometimes. They were delicious as long as she wasn’t the one who made them.”

She laughs again, and he smiles at the sound. “She sounds like a real catch.”

“She was,” he says. “And, I mean, I know  _ I’m  _ a helluva catch, what with the kickass flamethrower and the good looks and the endless beer and everything, but she was absolutely way outta my league. Like, she was smokin’ hot. She could’a been in one of those music videos, you know.”

She nods without opening her eyes. “All flossy?”

“Flossy as hell,” he confirms. “Anyway, we were hanging out and having fun, and I thought it was going good. I thought I was in love with her, man, I mean, she was so hot, she had real soft red hair and these real big--” He cuts himself off. He was gonna say she had real big tits, but since Mattie’s eyes are still closed he’s able to have a moment of uninterrupted study of what she’s working with under that shirt buttoned up high enough to cover that goddamned WRATH tattoo, and, yeah, they’re not as big as Shelly's and he doesn’t want her to feel bad even though he prefers hers anyways, and--

She’s giggling. Shit, he waited too long to finish his sentence, and she figured out what he was talking about. She opens her eyes just after he rips his away from her chest, so  _ at least  _ she didn’t catch him staring. (Again.)

“Okay, you made your point. She’s the hottest girl you’d ever met, maybe because of her boobs, maybe because of the free pizza.” She tilts her head back and downs the rest of her beer while she waits for him to finish the story, and he drags in a deep breath so he can get the rest out without pausing.

“So, I hadn’t asked her to move in with met yet, but I was thinkin’ about it, and she had a key to Boshaw Manor and everything, but she just hadn’t brought all her stuff over yet or anything, and I came home one day and caught her fuckin’ another guy in my bed.”

Mattie’s feet are jerked out of his hands as she sits up, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. She’s glaring. It’s the same look he’s seen her make when John or Jacob calls her over the radio, and he’s suddenly afraid he’s said the wrong thing and pissed her off for good this time.

“In your bed?”

“Yeah.” Jesus, he can still remember every detail of that day, exactly how she looked with her face all pink and her hair messed up and sweaty, tits still bouncing because it took her a couple seconds to realize was there and actually stop fuckin’ the dude, who, at least, seemed to feel guilty about it, throwing a heartfelt  _ sorry man  _ over his shoulder as he gathered his pants and shirt and ran naked from the room while Shelly just pouted. 

Mattie makes a considering noise, then twists around until she can reach the cooler with the rest of their beers. She offers him one, and he takes it even though he hasn’t quite finished his first. He downs what he has left, then opens the one she handed him.

“That’s fucked up, Shark,” she says, and he chuckles around his drink.

“That’s what I said.” And, yeah, that’s one of the things he said, probably the only one that bears repeating. He clutches the beer can a little tighter, ignoring the condensation wetting his fingers, wishing she’d put her feet back in his lap or something so he can the warmth of her again, the comfort that doesn’t stop him from saying everything that pops into his head but makes him feel better for the touch. How long has it been since someone just… was willing to sit, touching?

Oh, god. He hopes she doesn’t think he has a foot fetish, or something, the way he’s always grabbing for her feet when they’re close. She hasn’t said anything about it, and she seems to like the massages, but, like, that’s not really his thing. Not that he minds it, but it’s not really toes that get him going.

“She still around?”

“Nah. I don’t know if she left town, or joined up with the cult, or what. Haven’t seen her in years.”

Almost like she can hear what he was thinking -- not the foot fetish bit, the other thing -- she relaxes again and puts her feet back in his lap. He doesn’t start the massage up again, but she doesn’t seem to mind that either. 

“Well, she sounds like a cunt anyway,” she says, and he laughs again, a real belly laugh.

“You are not wrong there, shorty.” He manages to let a short silence pass before he asks one of the two questions burning his throat. “Why, would you really kick her ass for me?”

Mattie’s face is serious, and she waits to fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket. She sticks one between her lips and asks around it, “Don’t you think I could take her?”

“Hell yeah, you could,” he answers, honest, immediate, and she smirks the best she can while she’s lighting her cigarette. Her eyes flash at the same time as the little flame in her hand, then she’s exhaling a cloud into the sky, head tipped back, and he stares at her throat.

“Well, I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for Big Tits McGee next time we see a group of Peggies.” Her voice is dripping in disgust and he can’t help but laugh again. “Probably has LUST carved right on her forehead.” She takes another drag off her cigarette and idly rubs at her breastbone. After a half-second, she seems to shake herself out of it and nudges him with her heel against his knee. “Sorry that happened to you.”

He shrugs, drinks more of his beer, tries to find something to say that’s not embarrassing. “Yeah, well. What’s your story then? I told you mine, and fair’s fair.”

She shrugs too, her cigarette dangling from the fingers of her right hand. “I didn’t even have a boyfriend until I was nineteen,” she says, and that’s not what he expected her to say, even a little bit. “I’d just finished my EMT training, had a job in Custer County, and I was still living at home and all, but it was my first time with any real freedom of my own. One of the other EMTs and I started hanging out a lot after our shifts, talking a lot, you know how it goes. We started dating, and I just took it a lot more serious than he did, I guess, because he was my first, uhh… everything, really. Anyway, things went sour and that’s that.”

He stares at her. She doesn’t look back.

“That’s that, huh?” She grimaces when he feeds her words back to her. When she doesn’t offer more details, he just starts guessing random shit that could break a girl’s heart for the first time at the ripe old age of nineteen. “He cheat on you? With another EMT? A patient? Turn out to be gay? Never made you cum and say it was your fault?” She chokes on her beer when he says that one, nearly spits it out, and then she’s laughing again and something in his chest eases a bit. “Cried after y’all fucked? Fell asleep on you?”

She kicks him again. “You think I’m such a boring lay that someone’d fall asleep on me?”

He’s not blushing. He isn’t. He's definitely never thought about it before. “Nah, just trying to get to the bottom of it.”

She rolls her eyes at him, sort of chuckles and shakes her head while he just grins and waits. “It wasn’t anything all that dramatic,” she says finally. He watches as she flicks the ash off the end of her cigarette, takes another drag. “Just lots of fighting, name calling, couple’a holes punched in the wall of his apartment. Duct tape doesn’t quite fix that either, but it’s better than nothing. He kicked me out and then acted all surprised when I moved in with another friend and wouldn’t take his calls.”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Sharky offers, and she laughs a little. It’s warm again, not bitter, and she tosses the butt of her cigarette into the fire.

“Yup. Looks like we’re both better off now, huh?” She nudges him with her foot again, smiling but not looking at him, studying the stars overhead instead. She always does that; while he’s busy admiring the flames of the closest fire (camp, bon, or on the end of a match), she’s busy staring up at the sky like she can just disappear into it if she tries hard enough.

“Yeah, I mean, if that dickwad hadn’t punched holes in his own walls, I wouldn’t’ve met my best friend,” he says, giving in and resting his hand on her ankle, just because he wants to touch her again. 

She flexes her toes and smiles doesn’t pull away. “That’s a good way to look at it,” she says, lips still curled up at the edges as her eyes start to close. “Guess this is all worth it.”

And, well, maybe he wouldn’t go quite that far, a lot of people have died and all, but… yeah. Yeah. He can’t bring himself to disagree, either.

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be more one-shots in their future.
> 
> [Talk to me on Tumblr](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/).


End file.
